


Happy Birthday, Mr Black

by JLPierre



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Blowjob, Birthday Party, Birthday Smut, Eventual Smut, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Physical Abuse, Sexual Content, Smut, Young Sirius Black
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-28 20:51:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12615232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JLPierre/pseuds/JLPierre
Summary: For the babes birthday. A small drabble that got away with me. Sirius Black doesn’t want to celebrate, his explanation as to why sparks a gift that wasn’t originally on the cards.Warning: Mention of previous home/child abuse.  Birthday Smut.





	Happy Birthday, Mr Black

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to JenCala for looking over the lemons for me. This piece is unbeta’d, so please be kind.

"What do you mean you _hate_ your birthday?"

Sirius fought rolling his eyes, choosing instead to fix them on the ball of socks Peter was throwing instead. He had this 'debate' ever since the first year; it was now seventh. Remus had a heart of gold, full of sarcasm and kindness, but at times he didn't know when it was appropriate to drop something, like the ball of socks Peter currently needed to drop.

"I mean, I choose not to celebrate, but accept the gifts, because I'd be rude to turn those away, and pretend that its any other day, except I can use the excuse it's my birthday to get out of things I despise."

Remus frowned. "But—"

" _Nothing_ ," Sirius finished, becoming irritable by the socks and the interrogation. "Moony, the moon of my life, stop. Please? I really, really, fucking despise my birthday. I know you wanna do the _boyfriend_ thing, and make it the best one yet, but I truly hate this day, and would rather get drunk and forget it exists."

He didn't want to meet Remus' eyes, he hadn't wanted to break contact with the socks, but he did, and the look upon his face broke Sirius a little. He had never seen Remus deflated, not like that — and Sirius was used to disappointing him with his poor choices and lack of thinking before doing.

"Fine," Sirius snarled, knowing this would only be put to bed if he was honest. "How did your birthdays go, because I promise you, mine did not go like that."

Remus shuffled in the armchair, the warm fire crackling as Sirius waited for an answer. "Birthday cake, my mum would sing?" He watched him begin to smile, seeing old memories flicker before his eyes. "I'd spend the day with my mum, and my dad would always whisper that one day we can go out and celebrate when I'm cured..." Remus' smile was slowly fading as he met Sirius' eyes.

"Yeah, I didn't have that. It was another day to remind me that I am nothing like Regulus — the Prince of the house. My cousins would come round, and they'd annoy me, and it wouldn't be a party, and there would not be cake." Sirius stretched his hand out across his leg, over the scar from a failed birthday. "If it weren't an heirloom I received, it would be some other concocted gift that I neither asked for, needed or ever wanted," his fingers rubbing gently over the spot before he met Remus' eyes. "I have no memories of a birthday that have been good enough to banish those, so, I don't celebrate and Moony, I'm fine with that. I am. Being with you four, and Evans and the girls now, is a better birthday than I could have ever wished for."

The air tensed, and before Sirius had finished his speech, he knew that there was something amiss. This suspicion was further fuelled when Remus looked directly at Peter, who seemed to be struggling to swallow.

"What did you four do?"

Peter paled as Remus wiggled nervously in the chair. "Not us. Although I do think it's a wicked idea—"

"Moony," Sirius insisted, interrupting him before he got on a tangent.

"Lily is throwing you a party. Marlene is on liquor. Dorcas is on decorations, and James is attempting to bride the elves for a cake." Remus looked as though he was bracing, apprehensively flicking from meeting Sirius' eyes to not. "And my job, with Pete's—"

"Is?" Sirius interrupted, rather enjoying this flushed, nervous side to Remus. His eyes seemed brighter, and his skin more alive as it pinked. "What is your job, Moony?"

Remus blushed, the look in Sirius' eyes casting down over him. "I'm supposed to get you there."

Sirius contemplated giving in, but it was his nature or what he desired. The thought was lovely, appreciated even, but it wasn't what he wanted. His birthday, the day of his birth into the Black household, even if he wasn't living there anymore, was still painful as were the scars he bore from living there.

"No."

"No?" Peter chirped up, suddenly finding his voice. "Whatcha mean no?"

"I mean," Sirius said, leaning forward, so his elbows were on his knees, the common room fire flourishing as though given more air to grow, "no. Like no, I'm not going. And no, this isn't what I wanted, and no, I'm not being an arsehole."

Remus sighed, that 'Sirius' sigh when he did something disapproving or very typical of him. "What will it take you to go?"

"I like your thinking, Moony," Sirius said wiggling his eyebrows.

Peter's eyes widened, choking on air. "From-m him or m-me?"

Sirius smirked, not wanting to laugh, but he couldn't help it. The laugh erupted out of him like lava out of a volcano, spraying the room in joy and light-heartedness. He felt his stomach knot as he tensed, the laugh flowing through him, making him feel light and happy.

"Me, Wormtail," Remus said, still laughing. "He means me. You go, I'll... catch you up."

Peter didn't need to be asked or heard it mention again. He stood from the sofa he'd been sat on, the socks discarded on the cushion as he hurried out of the room. For a moment, Remus and Sirius didn't meet eyes, still laughing slightly before the last laugh fell from their lips and they stared at the other.

Remus smiled, moving from the armchair and crossing the room slowly, as though not wanting to frighten him. Before he stood before him, he extended his hand for Sirius to take. "Come on then; I can show you your gift while we are upstairs."

"Gift, ay? Sex and a gift, it must be my birthday." Sirius took his hand as Remus pulled him up, lightly slapping him for his comment. "I can show you something too."

"Sirius, I've seen your cock before. I've seen it plenty of times. I've actually seen it more times now we are dating than before we did, which is an accomplishment in itself for how naked you usually are."

Sirius chuckled, allowing himself to be led up the stone staircase. "Not my cock. Something, private and usually concealed." Remus looked over his shoulder, and the mixed expression nearly made Sirius burst into laughter again. "Not my arse either, although I do know you like a moon's view—ouch! It's my birthday you can't hit me!"

"You hate your birthday," Remus said, wiggling his brows. "So?"

Remus pushed open their dormitory door, walking over to his bed, as Sirius kicked the door closed behind him. The wooden door met the frame with a slam, echoing through the room.

Nerves suddenly swarmed Sirius, washing over him and making him unsure if he was strong enough to do this. He knew he was, he knew it. It was a lot more terrifying thinking of doing it and then actually doing it.

Sirius slowly moved his hands to his jeans, unbuttoning the top button as Remus turned around to face him. The sound of the click sounded like a spell meeting the wall, the silence in the room suffocating. He continued all the same, unzipping his jeans, pushing them down past his thighs as they fell, pooling at his feet.

Remus' eyes, to be expected, fell straight to the area he usually focused on. Sirius, usually wanting nothing more than that, clicked his fingers, bringing the attention to him.

"I want to show you this." Sirius held his finger out, slowly moving it down to the end of his thigh muscle where it met his knee. Where the pain still fluctuated when it was cold, and ached the entirety of summer when he had gone back to Grimmauld Place. "She said it was an accident. My mother. The hex hadn't been meant for me."

Remus gasped, moving over to where Sirius stood, and falling onto his knees, tears building in his eyes. He knew it looked ghastly, it was pink, always inflamed and never settled.

"I heard her, the year later, telling my cousin about it, confirming it was no accident. I hadn't been grateful enough for the gift I got, I can't even remember the present if I'm honest, but I assume it was some ridiculous traditional gift. It sliced over my trousers, ripping them, slicing my skin." Sirius shook his head, closing his eyes as he tried to battle with the memory. The pain returned, flooding him like it happened today instead of those years ago. "It was my tenth birthday. My eleventh being the following year when I heard the lovely things she said about me, about how funny it was to watch me scream for my insolence. Hogwarts was a blessing, a break from having her face look down on me, spouting...horrid, _bitter_ words."

Sirius took a deep breath, feeling Remus' fingers trace the outline of the scar. The pain was thumping against Remus' touch. "I hadn't done anything wrong except spill tea on my shirt, Remus. Which had been Narcissa's fault for knocking the table. It was the last birthday I enjoyed, the rest, they were bad, but not cursed-on-the-floor bad, you know? I didn’t want to celebrate again because..."

He opened his eyes, looking down at the new sensation passing over his scar. The feeling stole his thoughts, taking away his pain for the first time since the conversation initiated.

Remus, on his knees, was kissing it, softly and carefully. Their eyes caught and the confusion Sirius felt must have shown. "You always say that your kisses heal my scars," Remus replied as he smiled. "I'm attempting the same."

"Remus..."

"I promise you; this will be a _happy_ birthday. If its the last thing I do."

Sirius shook his head in disbelief. "It took me years to tell you I loved you, please don't let a dump party be the last thing you do."

Remus pressed another kiss to Sirius' scar, looking up at him with wide-green eyes. "I love you, Pads. Scars and all, and I promise, on my knees, that I will make them less painful — however, I can."

Sirius wasn't going to respond, but he knew he couldn't not. His hands gripped under Remus', lifting him to his feet, so they were eye-level, grey washing with green. "You already do. I don't need a party; I just need to be with you."

Remus shrugged, lightly. "Let's just be here then, for a while?"

"For a while..." Sirius agreed, bridging the gap between them as he pressed his lips against Remus'. "I love you, so fucking much."

"Uh-huh,” Remus smirked, slowly moving his lips to Sirius’ neck, wrapping his hand around Sirius’ hip.

He felt a tingle down his stomach, a shiver running through his spine as Remus’ other hand moved down his abdomen. Sirius hissed through his teeth, feeling Remus’ fingers descend until his palm pressed against his hardening cock. Sirius smirked as it twitched against Remus’ touch, recognising, needing him, and he felt his mind blur of any previous thoughts. 

Remus traced his lips down Sirius’ neck, sucking tentatively at first before nipping at his skin — hoping to mark, bruise, claim — as Remus looped his thumb inside the band of Sirius’ boxers. 

Sirius — someone who never felt nervous —  gulped. He wasn’t sure if it was because of what he had shared of his past or because Remus seemed dominant, in control — something he _rarely_ was. He heard the sound of Remus’ knees meeting the ground again, and something pooled in Sirius’ stomach. Their eyes met, the lust in both their eyes blinding the other. 

“I’m going to erase all of those memories, Sirius. One by one.” Remus ran his hands over the back of Sirius’ legs. “I want to heal you, like you do me each moon.”

He stared into Remus’ eyes, fragile and unsure of his next steps. Sirius felt his soul was exposed, open and vulnerable, but a coy smile that passed over Remus’ lips calmed him.

“Happy Birthday, Mr Black,” Remus said, and as Sirius hissed at the name, he felt Remus’ warm, perfect mouth around his cock. 

He could barely contain the rushing, earth-shaking pleasure that was assaulting his senses because of Remus’ birthday gift.

Remus, who was gifted in every sense, was busy, on his knees before Sirius, controlling his pleasure; sucking, licking and massaging his hardening length all with that delicious mouth. The very thought of it, never mind the actual event, was pushing him to the edge, not sure if he could hold on for much longer. 

Sirius began to pant, the pleasure and heat - _tightening, knotting_ , curling his stomach. Their eyes met, and the flash of green mixed with pure lust, caused Sirius to bite down on his lip, tasting blood inflicted by his refusal to surrender. His hand moved to Remus’ curls, gripping and fisting his soft hair between his fingers. 

With a flick of his tongue, Remus owned him, reminding him who was in control — and who was giving the gift. Sirius couldn’t hold on, not able to resist the white-blinding pleasure mixing with held breath, and assaulted sensations hammering his body. 

Sirius came undone with a loud cry, his mind blanking; his breathing non-existent until he gasped for air, riding the waves of his pleasure. His legs felt unsteady, shaking as Remus’ palms moved up the back of his thighs as he rose up to his feet. 

“Happy Birthday, Sirius,” Remus said, pressing his lips to Sirius’ plump, swollen ones. 

His eyes blinked several times before his mind returned to him, and he grasped Remus’ hips. “No-uh, we, uh, stay here and, I want to—“

”Sirius, are you speechless?” Remus smirked confidently, and Sirius fucking loved that look — the Remus got the chocolate look. “Who’d have known the _impossible_ , could be possible?” 

Sirius gripped his skin tighter, hoping to bruise Remus’ side. “Let me make you feel good.” 

Remus simply shook his head. “No. _Later_. We have a party, remember? A birthday party, that will be _fun_ , and memorable. Please?” Sirius tilted his head, bending down to retrieve his jeans and boxers as he pulled them up. “I got you Ogden’s finest.” 

His eyes brightened, he felt it, he knew they would have. Remus licked his lips slowly, knowing he had won — Sirius couldn’t wait to bask in that confidence later, behind the curtains of their bed, whisky on their lips. 

For once, Sirius didn’t want to argue. “Fine. For the whisky, not Lily, or even you,” he smirked, pressing a chaste kiss to Remus’ lips.

Sirius watched Remus walk past, moving to the door, and he had a last smile to himself. He knew this birthday had already outshone the rest. All because of the man gesturing for his hand — the man who loved him, and had got on his knees for him. 

The man who kissed and healed his scar; the man who made him forget, always.

Remus Lupin, his moon, his saving grace. The man he had wished for when he had laid in his bed, nursing his wounds on his birthday, all those years ago, begging the moon for help. 

Sirius was thankful the moon had answered, a star without a _Moony,_ wasn’t a world worth living in. 


End file.
